The great hall of Grayvale Knight Academy breathed quietly in the morning light. Through the high arched windows, sunlight slanted across the polished stone floor, casting long shadows. The candelabras along the walls still burned, their flickering flames painting the white stone walls in soft hues. Long tables were arranged neatly down the center, with name cards already placed on the candidates' chairs. Kurokawa Akiko—or rather, Amante de Forteyne, as this body was named—sat in the second row from the front, earlier than anyone else. The sensation of touching the white-uniformed knight's hand at the corridor corner yesterday still lingered faintly at her fingertips. That warmth had carried through the night and flickered at the edge of her mind even during this morning's preparations. It bothered her. It bothered her, but it shouldn't. That contact was unplanned, not sentiment, and certainly not meaningful. (Today is day two. The cultivation examination. Poetry critique, music, history questions.) Akiko arranged the game's strategy information in her mind while clasping her gloved hands on her lap. The second day of selection week was the cultivation test—where examiners would evaluate the candidates' intellect and refinement. Poetry criticism, simple musical performance, history questions, and afternoon tea-time conversation. In the game's text, this was where Amante publicly belittled other candidates, harassed Reset, and damaged her standing with the examiners. (So today, I play the villain again. Noticeable enough to be disliked, but not too much. That's the foundation of my ruin-avoidance plan.) Candidates filed in one by one, their faces tense, speaking quietly with their attendants for last-minute confirmations. Akiko observed them from the corner of her eye and thought inwardly, "How unfortunate." Then the hall doors opened again. The air changed, she thought. Pale crimson-plum colored hair caught the morning light streaming through the door, shimmering translucently. A pristine white dress with small rose embroidery. Her posture was perfectly straight, her footsteps silent, and her gaze—measured the entire room in an instant. Reset Ortia. The game's heroine. An exceptional candidate—the daughter of the fallen Baron Ortia house, nominated for the Rose Princess selection. Eighteen years old from a small southern frontier territory with an annual income of about fifty gold coins. She had the face of a pure country girl, but beneath it lay political ambition and calculation. Throughout every route of the game, she was Amante's greatest rival. The room's attention converged on her. Everyone mixed curiosity—"Ah, so that's the rumored baron's daughter"—with calculating assessment—"Compared to that earl's house, her family rank is..."—in their gazes. Reset pretended not to notice, maintaining her gentle smile as she walked through the hall. She approached Akiko's seat. "Good morning, Amante. I wasn't able to greet you properly yesterday, but I was hoping we could talk at leisure today," said, her voice soft. There was an artless quality befitting a country girl, and her tone was genuinely disarming. Akiko analyzed it internally while adjusting her villainess mask. "...I see," replied, returning her gaze to the seams of her gloves. A perfectly cold acknowledgment. Silent pressure that said, "I have no interest in you." Reset's transparent violet eyes shifted for just a moment. It was only an instant. Behind her soft smile, something hard flashed—the eyes of someone making an assessment, someone experienced. It was immediately painted over with an expression of innocent confusion—"Well, how lonely"—and she walked toward another candidate. (She's capable, after all.) A small tension was born in Akiko's chest. There was something in that instant that went beyond what the game's text had described. The declaration of war ended in a form no one else could see. ＊ The cultivation examination began in the morning. The poetry critique took the form of each candidate reading a short poem they'd brought before the examiners, then offering mutual commentary. After Akiko's turn came, she heard the poem from the adjacent candidate—one that endlessly praised the beauty of roses, competent but ordinary—and opened her mouth. "In describing the red of the rose as 'like blood,' isn't that rather ominous for a selection week venue? The rose is a symbol of the royal house's sanctity, so overlaying it with imagery of death is... well, I acknowledge the poetic technique, but," said. The room stiffened slightly. The candidate who'd read the poem flushed. The examiners wrote something in their notes. Perfect, Akiko confirmed internally. Disagreeable, but not off-base. This was Amante's correct villainess positioning— "Amante's observation is quite sharp, isn't it?" interjected smoothly. "Whether the combination of roses and blood is ominous—but I think precisely because you have refined aesthetic sensibilities, you noticed it. You're reading the dual meanings the poem's words carry. I suspect the examiners understood it that way as well," continued. The examiners looked at Reset all at once, then at Akiko. Their expressions shifted to "Ah, so that's what it was." A quiet alarm sounded in Akiko's mind. (Wait... my criticism just got converted into praise?) Reset smiled sweetly and directed a question to one of the examiners: "How did you feel about it, Instructor Valerie?" She'd completely seized control of the room, framing Akiko as "someone with critical insight." (Why isn't she backing down? Isn't the normal reaction to distance yourself from someone disagreeable?) The same thing happened three times throughout the morning examination. When Akiko said another candidate's musical performance was "technically precise but emotionally hollow," Reset reframed it as "So Amante values emotional expression—how wonderful." When Akiko pointed out that a history answer was "accurate but shallow in contextual interpretation," Reset concluded with "I felt the depth of Amante's historical knowledge." From the outside, it must have looked like an ideal scene—two talented young ladies competing with their intellect, each complementing the other. (I want to bury my head in my hands. I really, genuinely want to bury my head in my hands.) Beneath the mask of a noblewoman, Akiko was genuinely confused. During the afternoon tea-time conversation, Akiko deliberately took a seat in the corner by the window. To isolate herself. To avoid involvement with anyone. But when she looked up, Reset was sitting beside her, saying things like "Do you prefer being alone, Amante? I actually find quiet places more comfortable than crowds..." and naturally drawing other candidates to their table. Before long, Akiko found herself at the center of the gathering. (In my previous life, as an office worker, I never had this kind of social gravity. I didn't realize the name and status of Amante would carry this much weight.) As the rose tea—the specialty of the tea house "Dawn Rose Pavilion," slightly lighter than the version from the Silver Bell Street shop in the royal capital, but still refined in aroma—was poured into cups, Akiko quietly acknowledged that her venomous remarks hadn't achieved their intended effect even once. Reset Ortia was frightening. More so than the game's text had suggested. ＊ As evening fell, the examination ended. While other candidates returned to the waiting room surrounded by their attendants, Akiko decided to cross the academy's courtyard alone. In the courtyard of Grayvale Knight Academy stood the "Oath Rose," an ancient tree two hundred years old, its branches casting long shadows in the twilight. No one was there. It was quiet. She needed to clear her head. Walking toward the Moon Garden—more precisely, the small water-channel garden on the academy's west side, so named because the moon's reflection shone beautifully on the water at night—Akiko tried to organize today's failures. (I need to change my approach to Reset. That girl converts all my villainess acting into "a talented eccentric." Normal dislike won't work. So what do I do?) As she walked while thinking, she emerged onto the stone path along the water channel. Someone was sitting on the edge of the fountain. Pale crimson-plum colored hair. The hem of a white dress spread across the stone, glowing softly in the twilight. Reset Ortia was gazing at the moon's reflection on the water. They noticed each other. A beat of silence. Akiko had intended to turn back. There was no need to be alone with the enemy. It could be an opportunity for information gathering, but there were risks. Her head was tired today. It should wait for another time. Her feet stopped. In the moonlight illuminating Reset's profile, the mask had fallen away. The face that had smiled softly all day long was now simply tired. The corners of her lips were drawn slightly tight. Her shoulders had dropped a little. Her eyes seemed to be looking at the water's surface, but were actually looking somewhere far away. It was not the face of a game heroine. It was the face of someone who had endured a long battle. It overlapped with the face Akiko had seen in the mirror at the sink during late-night overtime in her previous life. (Stop it. It's not related. She's the enemy. Don't be sentimental.) Self-control activated. The moment Akiko realized that this very self-control was proof that her emotions were already moving, she clicked her tongue softly. "...Are you concerned about the examination results from earlier?" asked. Her mouth had moved. By the time she realized it, the words were already out. She was speaking while wrapped in the armor of political language, approaching from a safe angle. Reset looked up. For a moment, Akiko saw the mask beginning to return—and then it stopped. It didn't fully return. "...No," answered shortly, then fell silent again. Akiko lowered herself onto the fountain's edge, at a distance from Reset. She didn't fully understand why she'd done so. It was simply the midpoint between leaving and drawing too close. "Your Ortia house is in the southern frontier territory, correct?" "...You knew?" "About three hundred kilometers south of the royal capital. Wool is the main industry, and financial difficulties have persisted. If you're selected as the Rose Princess, your house's restoration becomes possible—that much is known to those who know such things," said, probing to see how much Reset would reveal. Reset was silent for a while, then spoke quietly. "You're also hiding something," Her voice was low. It remained gentle in tone, but it was different from anything she'd said all day. "...What makes you say that?" "Today, Amante made several moves that seemed to disadvantage yourself. Deliberately, it seemed," Reset's violet eyes caught the moonlight, becoming transparent. Her profile remained tired, but in the depths of those eyes—there was a will of steel. That light Akiko had glimpsed several times today, now present without concealment. "...How interesting," said, not laughing. (This girl sees it. Not everything, but she's aware that I'm calculating and failing.) It was an equal gaze. Both wore masks, both knew the other's mask, and yet they faced each other directly. Something was born in Akiko's chest. Not sympathy. Not carelessness. Something close to respect. (This is dangerous. This is a dangerous kind of emotion.) The water in the channel rippled slightly in the breeze. The moon's shadow scattered into fragments, then gathered again. Silence fell between them. It wasn't a long silence, but it was dense. "...There's another examination tomorrow," said. "Yes, there is," replied. That was all. Akiko stood, and Reset returned her gaze to the water's surface. Something that couldn't be put into words dissolved into the twilight air. ＊ Walking back through